


Les Barricades Mystérieuses

by KareliaSweet



Series: Couperin Trilogy [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Crisis Solved, M/M, Murder Husbands, Post-Canon, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Post-Finale, Sexuality Crisis, With Blow Jobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-22
Updated: 2015-10-22
Packaged: 2018-04-27 13:26:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5050285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KareliaSweet/pseuds/KareliaSweet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt:<br/><i>I'd love to see post-s3 Will to be turned on by Hannibal doing some Hannibal-y things and Will fretting out because of his sexuality-crisis (Will identifies as a hetero, and has never before Hanni even thought males in romantic/sexual sense).</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Les Barricades Mystérieuses

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ina_K](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ina_K/gifts).



It was Hannibal’s hands.

They were strong, powerful hands, but they moved the way Will imagined a dancer’s would. His fingers, long and tapered, beautiful in how they gripped a neck _just so_ and twisted. Will imagined those fingers tracing a whisper of a line along his own neck.

That’s how it started.

Will reasoned that he could chalk up the misfiring of his lustful synapses to the bloodlust of the kill and thought no more of it. It wasn’t as though he thought about those hands any other time of day.

And he didn’t.

Until he thought about his mouth.

Hannibal was sitting in a rattan chair on the patio, eating fresh slices of mango straight from the knife he was stripping the fruit with. Will watched as he sucked flesh from the blade and imagined those lips sucking against a different kind of flesh, paler but equally wet and ripe.

It was the knife, he decided. The knife made him think about how it could slide through skin which made him think about hot mouths on his skin and how was this better exactly? No, it was just the knife. He didn’t think about the way Hannibal’s graceful hands caressed the blade like a lover. Didn’t think about the hands and the mouth together, and what wonders they could write on his – no.

Will was straight. He always had been.

Hannibal turned to regard him then, lips wrapped around the pulp of the fruit, a single line of juice dripping down his chin. He winked.

Will cursed under his breath and went to seek shelter under a cold shower.

-x-

He had always loved watching Hannibal cook. Even under games of artifice and pretense, he had found a steady calm in watching Hannibal move about his natural habitat.

That hadn’t changed.

The kitchen in their villa was wider and sunnier, with an open floor plan that allowed Will to watch Hannibal from the living room if he so chose. Sometimes he would sit and pretend to read and instead watch him from the reflection of the plasma television. If Hannibal noticed, he chose not to comment on it.

On this particular lazy Sunday evening Hannibal was making paella with squid and sausage, and Will observed quietly as he went about his motions. His sleeves were folded up above the elbow and Will watched the muscles of his forearms flex and ripple as Hannibal chopped and stirred. They were undoubtedly masculine arms, not the lithe feminine arms with bony wrists that Will had grown accustomed to aligning his attractions to.

And yet he found his mouth parting, tongue slipping against his bottom lip as he watched Hannibal take the pan in hand and begin to lightly shift and toss its ingredients above the open flame. Hannibal took a deep inhale and closed his eyes briefly in satisfaction, abundantly pleased with his efforts. Will wondered how that nose would feel buried in the curve of his neck and he felt heat pool low in his belly. Hannibal turned his head to smile at Will through the mirrored black reflection.

Will blinked once, twice, shifted himself in the couch cushions and thought of Frederick Chilton being burned alive. His cock twitched in approval. He thought of Frederick Chilton talking, and his arousal swiftly retreated.

Hannibal served dinner on the veranda, and they ate in the comfortable silence afforded to their closeness. Will made his usual pleased noises at the quality of food he was presented, and Hannibal gazed into him with a piercing fondness, corners of his mouth turned up just so.

“Would you like to discuss your growing attraction to me, Will?”

Will choked on a tendril of squid and grasped helplessly for his Tempranillo. Washing it down, he belted out a few coughs and fixed his eyes on Hannibal in an equal mix of irritation and forced confusion.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“If I am not mistaken, I have noticed a certain way in which you have begun to look at me. It is only natural, sharing such close quarters – and such a bond – as we do.”

Will took another lengthy gulp from his wine glass. “You _are_ mistaken, Hannibal.”

Hannibal merely arched a brow, reaching for his own glass, and nodded in stately apology.

“Of course, Will.” He took a genteel sip of wine, his fingers stroking along the stem of the glass. Will did not imagine he was a wine glass.

“If you say so,” Hannibal finished, an unmistakable lilting sing-song tone to his voice.

They continued eating in silence, but it was no longer comfortable.

-x-

Somehow, Hannibal had managed to find a Zuckerman Flemish Double Harpsichord in not only mint condition, but within 5 miles of the Mediterranean Coast. When it was delivered to their doorstep, Will heard him make a pitching blissful noise that was borderline sexual, and Will had to put a stopper to his brain before thoughts of how he could pluck that sound from within Hannibal’s throat drove him to distraction.

Once it was settled, Hannibal immediately sat at the bench, looking for all the world like a child on Christmas morning. He looked at Will with unmasked delight.

“What would you like me to play, Will?”

Will shrugged and hoped it looked convincing.

 _Anything that makes your hands move in ways that make me very very confused about my standing on the Kinsey scale_ , he thought.

“Für Elise,” he ventured, his upglide making it sound like more of a bored question than it was.

Hannibal pinched his mouth in a frown.

“Surely you have a more eclectic suggestion, Will.”

Will shrugged again and made a noncommittal sweeping gesture as if to say _whatever you want, I don’t care._

Hannibal nodded curtly, more disappointed than displeased.

“Perhaps some Couperin then,” he said mostly to himself, and began to play.

Will watched his fingers move. He watched the flex and sway of his arms, the gentle bend of his neck as it dipped with and around the music. He was goddamn mesmerizing.

This was unfair. Will had given up an entire life, and his entire notions of morality and being, to be with Hannibal – willingly. Was he supposed to give up his sexuality as well now? He felt a pang of anger at being so controlled, even as his throat caught watching Hannibal’s hands fly mesmerizingly across the keys.

 _No_ , he thought, _I get control over **this**_ , and marched out of the foyer before Hannibal could play the last note.

Hannibal caught up with him on the veranda, catching him by the elbow.

“Will,” he chided with disquieting calm, “that was very rude.”

“Sorry,” Will said dismissively, “harpsichord’s not really my thing.”

Hannibal’s grip pinched the inseam of his arm and Will found himself both wincing at and delighting in the touch. Frustrated yet again by warring sensations, he tore his arm away.

“Jesus, Hannibal, I’m sorry, it’s just an instrument.”

“Is it, Will? Or are you afraid I will be as adept at playing _you_?”

Hannibal’s eyes darkened and he began a predatory stalk towards him. Will’s breath left him in a soft gasp as he backed against the pillar behind him. There were inches between them, slowly closing. Will could not remove his gaze from Hannibal’s mouth.

“Hannibal, I-I’m not gay.”

Hannibal’s hands were planted either side of him now, loosely framing his hips. Will’s breath hitched slightly at the slight brush of a thumb against his thigh, and he felt the skin beneath burst in tiny sprinkles of gooseflesh.

“I know you are not,” Hannibal whispered almost into his mouth, “which makes your desire for me all the more intoxicating.”

“I don’t desire you,” Will argued feebly.

“I beg to differ,” Hannibal replied, and shifted the brush of his thumb to graze oh-so-slightly against the beginnings of Will’s erection. Will choked out a muted half-groan and swallowed thickly as Hannibal ducked his nose to inhale obscenely loud into his neck.

“Stop,” Will pleaded, not meaning it at all.

“Very well.” The words were hot against his skin, and then suddenly nothing but cool night air was touching him.

Hannibal stepped back, all business, and clapped his hands together as though he were dusting off chalk.

“I don’t wish to make you uncomfortable, Will. I apologize for misreading you.”

Will’s mouth opened and closed helplessly. His cheeks were hot, his entire body felt like a wild nerve, and his hand was clutching behind him for purchase at infuriatingly smooth granite.

He watched Hannibal walk away, his heart throbbing in tandem with his cock, and wondered exactly where he would be willing to draw the line.

-x-

He dreamed of the rasp of fresh stubble against his thighs, of firm and elegant hands holding him open, full lips laying open kisses against his cock.

He awoke feeling sated before he felt a familiar dampness against his stomach, and realized he’d had his first goddamn wet dream in over a decade. And it had been a decidedly homoerotic one.

He glanced at his suspiciously open doorway and wondered if Hannibal had been watching. The ghost of a shadow passing across the hall was all the confirmation he needed.

-x-

“You know,” he said sharply the next morning over the rim of his coffee mug, “this is not why I chose this life with you.”

Hannibal looked up over the grapefruit he was carefully segmenting.

“What do you mean, Will?”

“I mean,” he waved an arm between them, “this. _This_. Whatever it is we share… it isn’t sexual.” He cleared his throat and took another swig from his mug. “It’s important. It’s… I can’t properly name it. But it has nothing to do with… with that.”

“I know,” Hannibal said easily, lifted a segment of grapefruit to his lips. He took a small bite and made a satisfied hum around it.

“It would be a nice addition though, don’t you think?”

Will shook his head in bewildered frustration. “Wha- Hannibal, how many times do I have to say this?”

“You needn’t repeat yourself, Will. You are not homosexual. We are both very clear on that subject. And you are correct. My love for you has already been consummated in the ways that matter to me. I am completely satisfied with the life that we are building. Together,” he added, sucking the last of the juice from his fingers.

Will tried not to watch the play of muscle and tendon as _those hands_ shifted against _that mouth_.

“Good,” he said, staring into the black recesses of his cup, “so we don’t need to discuss this again.”

“No,” Hannibal replied, but his eyes glinted with mischief, “we do not.”

 -x-

Will dreamed again that night, only this time it wasn’t flashes of sensation. Clear as a reflection he saw Hannibal’s eyes, felt Hannibal’s hands, Hannibal’s mouth claiming him with divine urgency.

Will awoke to hardness, the edge of a cry already stumbling from his lips. He knew Hannibal must have heard him, if he couldn’t already smell him.

Fogged in the immediacy of lust, he found himself uncaring of the consequences and wrapped a hand around his cock. As he stroked himself his eyes drifted shut, he could see Hannibal behind them, and he mouthed his name in a whisper barely audible to his own ears.

“Did you call for me?”

Will’s eyes flew open. There was Hannibal, leaning in the doorway with casual grace and an insufferable smirk on his face. Of course he was shirtless.

“Of course I didn’t,” Will croaked out with as much authority as he could rally within himself, which was very little considering his hand was still gripped tight around his dripping cock.

Hannibal strode towards the bed and Will released himself, reaching to pull the sheets around him for a last ditch effort at modesty. Hannibal extended an arm and with a flick of his wrist flipped the covers aside.

Will scrambled for cover, still painfully hard. Hannibal stared at him calmly from the foot of the bed.

Will glared at him, hot with anger and lust and growing unable to discern the difference. “Hannibal, what are you-”

“Enough of this,” Hannibal said, and grabbed him by an ankle, jerking him swiftly and roughly onto his stomach.

“I will not force anything from you,” Hannibal purred as he began to crawl up his body, pressing skin to skin, “but I will have you begging my name. I will have you crying for mercy. I will _have_ you.”

“You-you won’t,” Will gritted out, trembling with need and so, so mortified by it.

“Won’t I?” Hannibal asked with a toying grin, and slid his hips in a sinful sweep against the rising curves of Will’s ass. “What will you beg me _for_ then?”

“Nothing,” Will said with as much dignity as he could muster, “absolutely fucking no- _ohhh God_ ”

Without preamble or warning, Hannibal had slipped a hand up through the loose leg of his boxers and was now circling the pad of a thumb in light touches against his inner thigh.

“Tell me this does not feel good.”

“It-it doesn’t,” Will managed to spill out between quaking breaths.

Hannibal ceased his movements, withdrawing his hand and laying his cheek tenderly against Will’s shoulder.

“We both know you are lying, Will.” He sounded almost sad. “Why would you deny yourself this?”

Pinned though he was, he could not find a sound argument for further struggle. Hannibal sighed sweetly against him and ran a hand down his side, the touch smooth as silk.

“Did you ever think that perhaps the urges you are feeling are simply a natural extension of our bond?”

His words melted into Will’s ear and trickled down his spine, a susurration of want and need filling him to the brim. He whimpered and he felt Hannibal’s smile press into his skin.

“You don’t crave the touch of a man, Will.”

A tender stroke of fingers across his neck.

“You crave _my_ touch.”

A kiss, barely felt, to his nape.

“And I am so very willing to give it to you.”

A tongue, licking the throb of his pulse. Teeth grazing against the skipping heartbeat.

All the resistance Will had built for himself suddenly dispersed like dandelion filaments. He twisted sharply under Hannibal’s grasp and locked his hand at the back of his neck.

“Then give it to me,” Will said, and dragged Hannibal’s mouth to his.

Dear God, it felt good. He hadn’t expected to enjoy a kiss so intensely, but the way Hannibal’s mouth moved so effortlessly with his, knowing instinctually how and when to tilt and sweep his tongue _just so_ , it was enough to make his eyes roll back in his head. Will shifted himself more thoroughly and pulled Hannibal tight so that they were pressed chest to chest. He could feel Hannibal’s growing hardness against his thigh and, without thinking, he raised his hips to seek further contact.

He felt Hannibal twitch against him in response and licked hungrily into his mouth.

“Tell me you still don’t want this,” Hannibal murmured between kisses.

“Fuck you,” Will said and caught Hannibal’s bottom lip between his teeth, biting hard enough to draw out a pleased hiss.

“That would be the plan,” Hannibal said, and his head shook with a soft laugh.

“Normally I abhor language in the bedroom.”

He ducked his head to nuzzle into Will’s neck, taking an exaggerated sniff.

“For you Will,” he sucked a quick hard kiss and reared his head back to meet his eyes, “I will make a fucking exception.”

Will inhaled sharply at the way his mouth curled around the word. Hearing Hannibal use such an expletive for the first time, in this context, was painfully arousing. Flushed and full with too much unspent tension, he ground his hips into Hannibal’s, a soft growl tugging from his throat. Hannibal splayed an open palm against his cheek and threaded fingers into his hair, tugging slightly.

“What would you like from me, Will?” he asked softly, dotting kisses along his jaw.

Will arched into each caress, caught between the warring worships of Hannibal’s mouth and hands. He wanted everything.

“Your mouth,” he stuttered out, and turned to suck the flesh of Hannibal’s palm, “your hands.”

“Greedy boy,” Hannibal praised, and pulled a deep kiss from Will’s mouth before descending downwards. He licked at a nipple, catching it between his teeth. Will whimpered feebly, sliding a helpless hand into Hannibal’s hair. He could feel the thrumming chords of Hannibal’s need clear as his own, and the notes played with and alongside each other in impossibly perfect harmony.

Hannibal shifted lower to take Will’s hips firmly in his grasp and motioned for him to raise. In one swift motion, as choreographed as anything they did together, Will lifted his hips and Hannibal pulled away his boxers, tossing them carelessly aside.

His mouth was upon him instantly and Will almost wept for the beauty of it.

Hot, wet kisses placed openly against his cock, soft sucks and teasing strokes from a clever tongue. Will keened loudly and bucked up, and Hannibal stilled him, pinning his hips back down with a firm hand. With his free hand he pushed gently against Will’s inner thigh, coaxing him open. Will spread himself eagerly and Hannibal pulled Will’s leg over his shoulder, bending deeper so he could lick him slick and wanton. He was making sloppy, pleased slurps and grunts, the hand on his thigh squeezing and tensing as though Hannibal was about to come too, just from the deliverance of Will’s pleasure.

It was too much. Too much, not enough and he needed more of all of it.

“Please – please Hannibal,” he begged.

He did not have to ask twice. He felt the grin against him, then nothing, then Hannibal’s mouth engulfed him entirely.

“Oh – ah - oh _God_ , _”_ Will cried, his hands scrabbling at Hannibal’s hair, nails digging and scratching lines into his shoulder blades. Hannibal sucked him down, his tongue rolling against his length before drawing up deliciously slow. He released Will with a soft pop, pulled the leg from his shoulder to spread Will wide, and slipped two fingers into his mouth. He wet them thoroughly and noisily before pulling them free and returning to lick thick stripes against the underside of Will’s cock. Will’s toes curled as Hannibal pressed the tip of one slickened finger against his opening and pushed in. White spots danced behind Will’s eyes as Hannibal slid his mouth back down his length to take him to the hilt, his hand earnestly working excitement below.

Heat and flamed coiled within Will and gripped tight. He was cresting up an incline with an unfathomable drop beneath it and Hannibal was only speeding his ascent.

“Hannibal, I’m going to come – mnh –  I’m going to come so fucking hard,” he amended, as the head of his cock hit the back of Hannibal’s throat.

Hannibal curved his finger at just the right angle and struck the spot that he knew would unspool him, and Will bucked his hips sharply as release took over, rendering him mute and awed and completely powerless. His mouth opened in a soundless cry, and he felt Hannibal groan and twitch sharply against him in kind.

Divine relief flooded through him, soaking his quaking body with waves of gorgeous pleasure. Hannibal kept his lips firm and tight around his cock, each swallow pulling another twitch of ecstasy from deep within. He crooked his finger slightly and rubbed with just enough pressure to drag the last straining note of completion from him, before Will collapsed boneless under his hands, nothing but sweat and release and giddy joy. He let Will go slowly, carefully, letting him slip free from the ministrations of both mouth and hand before placing a tender kiss to the inside of his thigh. Will looked down at him fondly, a lazy lopsided grin loose about his features. Hannibal nipped at a hipbone before shifting himself to join Will fully atop the bed. He raised himself on an elbow and fanned his free hand through Will’s damp curls, brushing tendrils from his eyes and leaving kisses in their wake.

Will preened into the touch, curling his body to mold to Hannibal’s, before he felt a suspicious wetness against his thigh. He looked down to see a dark patch seeping through Hannibal’s sleep pants and he raised his eyebrows in wonder.

“You- you came just from that?”

Hannibal nodded, clearly proud and not the slightest bit embarrassed. “A benefit to our bond, perhaps. I feel your satisfaction in equal measure.”

“However,” he said, already untying the strings of his pants, “I believe I swore to have you, and the evening has barely begun.”

He pulled the string loose completely and looped it around Will’s wrists, twining as taut as possible and raising Will’s arms over his head.

Will felt the heat of a summer storm rolling fresh through his body and he sucked a lip into his mouth as Hannibal traced a thumb over his quickening pulse. He flexed his wrists experimentally against the flimsy ties. He could pull free in an instant if he wanted to.

He didn’t want to.

Hannibal’s eyes were dark with promise.

 “I have a remarkable refractory period, Will.”

He stole a kiss from Will’s open mouth before murmuring into his lips.

“And you have _so much_ begging to do.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Couperin – Les Barricades Mystérieuses](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y7aU3aCEf5A)
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> Hope you enjoyed, darlings!
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> (And Morning-star sequel coming in the next week, I promise!)


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